


I Think I've Broken Something

by Emily_F6



Series: Whumptober 2020 [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Rogue Avengers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whumptober, steve rogers is doing his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Peter breaks his arm, he knows that he needs to go straight to the tower.  Unfortunately, it isn't Mr. Stark he finds there.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952845
Comments: 42
Kudos: 678





	I Think I've Broken Something

**_Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!_ **

It was nearly midnight when Peter started to make his way to the Avengers Tower. His curfew was 10 on weeknights, so technically, he was supposed to be at home. And, if one were to ask his aunt, May Parker, nurse extraordinaire, currently working at Queens Memorial Hospital on the night shift, she would say that of course her nephew was at home, probably in bed, maybe still texting a friend but safe and tucked under his blankets, because his curfew was 10 on weeknights and it was currently almost midnight.

And Peter hadn't broken curfew in months. He'd been so good. She trusted her nephew to make good choices.

Unfortunately, Peter had heard the screaming outside his window when he'd been ready to drift off. And almost before he'd realized what he was doing, he'd been pulling his suit on over his pajamas, launching himself out the window and swinging down to stop the three men who'd had a young woman surrounded. Then, Karen had informed him that a man with a gun was holding up a corner store. And then, because the third time was the charm, a man who turned out to be a major drug lord whose name Peter didn't catch and his group of cronies were beating up a man who might have been a member of their group...or maybe he owed them money? They didn't exactly fill him in on the specifics.

Either way, it was six to one. And Peter was tired. Thus, the crowbar that had hit him so hard in the arm that he'd seen white spots in his vision, bile crawling up his throat as he'd stumbled sideways, the injured limb hanging limp at his side before he'd managed to shoot a web and yank himself into the air and far away. But it was too late. His arm was broken. He knew it as the fragments of his bonds ground together with every movement, making panicked tears spring to his eyes.

It was broken.

It would need to be set.

At least he'd managed to dodge the knives.

Swearing under his breath, Peter dropped his head against his chest, taking deep, heaving breaths and trying to swallow the nausea. It hurt. It hurt in a way that nothing had hurt before and his whole body had started to shake and he was suddenly so dizzy. But he kept his feet firmly planted, taking those deep breaths and trying to focus. He needed help. He'd have to go to the tower. Mr. Stark was at the tower. Right? It was his home. He had to be there. And then he could get one of the doctors in the medbay to fix his arm and help him think of a lie to tell May.

Scratch that. Mr. Stark would never lie to May. Most likely, he'd text Peter's aunt while Peter was having his arm set, telling the woman that no only had Peter broken curfew, but that he'd also disabled the mildly annoying feature that informed Mr. Stark when he was injured. And then he'd hand him over to be grounded. And maybe confiscate the suit for a while. But as soon as he gave Peter the good drugs, he doubted he would care so much anymore. Because this hurt. It hurt so bad and the only thing keeping him from calling Happy and begging him to pick him up was the fact that it was nearly midnight.

So Peter, cradling his arm to his chest, shot a web, biting down hard on his lip as he swung toward the tower. It felt like it was going to be impossible...like the pain was going to make him black out. But he kept moving. Kept swinging. He had to. Because if he fell or passed out and someone found him then it was goodbye secret identity. Not to mention Ross, who seemed to have it out for mutants especially. Mr. Stark had promised him that he didn't need to worry about the Accords, at least not for a while, but it felt like he should be extra careful not to let Ross figure out who he was.

It took Peter nearly an hour to get to the tower, and by the time he made it to the side entrance to which he had a keycard, his good arm was shaking with fatigue, and his vision was blurry and filled with black spots. Peter slipped into the elevator, asking Friday to take him to the penthouse and leaning heavily against the wall, wondering if she had already called Mr. Stark. He knew that Karen hadn't...now he wish he hadn't disabled that particular feature. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he tried to keep calm. Tried not to focus on the steady, agonizing pain in his arm. It would be better soon. Mr. Stark would have medicine for him soon. Medicine first, lecture later. But that was fine as long as he got that medicine.

The elevator opened into the living room and Peter looked around in dizzy confusion. Was his vision going dark? No, he realized, blinking a few times. The penthouse was dark. Then again, it was nearly one in the morning. "Karen?" he asked, voice a whisper as he looked around, trying to see if he could spot Miss Potts on the sofa where she slept sometimes while waiting for Mr. Stark to finish up in the lab. Surely he was still in the lab...right? "Can you ask Friday to get Mr. Stark?" he whispered, taking another deep breath to try and get himself under control. He was okay. His arm hurt so badly that he felt dizzy and sick but he'd be fine. Mr. Stark had the good medicine. That would help. And then he could go to sleep.

He wanted to go to sleep so bad.

Looking around the dark room and trying to keep his arm still, he didn't see Miss Potts on the couch, so he headed for the kitchen, hoping to get an apple or something. Maybe that would help with the shaking. Maybe he just needed to raise his blood sugar. Did your blood sugar drop when you were in shock? Was he in shock?

His senses went off as soon as he crossed the threshold from the living room to the kitchen, and he ducked on instinct, twisting his body to the side to avoid the hand that reached for him. "The hell…" he muttered under his breath as he took a step away from the woman suddenly aiming a gun at him. Heart stuttering in his chest, he stared from the weapon to the woman, feeling his hands start to shake again, and even that movement made his broken arm throb with pain.

"Don't move," she snapped, and it took him a moment for his fuzzy brain to catch up. Natasha Romanoff. One of the Rogue Avengers. And there were more people in the kitchen. The Rogue Avengers were here. Had they hurt Miss Potts? Mr. Stark? His mouth was suddenly too dry to ask and he wanted to call for Friday but then another presence was behind him and a hand closed around his arm and he didn't recognize the scream that tore through his throat, his knees slamming into the floor as he dropped, unable to stop the sobs that shook his whole body as the hand let go as if it had been burned.

Curling up on the floor, Peter rocked, gripping his arm and breaking in harsh pants through his mouth, head swimming worse than before, and for a moment he was sure he was going to pass out. Or throw up in his mask. Slowly, through the roaring in his ears, he was able to make out frantic voices all around him.

"...the Spider guy!"

"Why the hell did you grab him?"

"I just wanted to make sure he couldn't…"

"I think his arm is broken...shit…"

"As per the Squished Spider protocol, I am now contacting Mr. Stark with all footage pertaining to Spider-Man's injuries," Friday informed them from above, and Steve Rogers swore under his breath.

"Move," someone else ordered, and Peter pried his eyes open, watching as someone knelt at his side. Sam Wilson. Falcon. Steve knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Queens? Can you hear me?"

Peter couldn't speak through the pain that was still too sharp to breathe through, but he nodded, still sobbing.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know that you were already injured. We didn't know who was coming into the tower. We're trying to lay low and…"

"Kid, can we help you sit up? I'm sure Tony's on his way," Sam cut him off, voice low and urgent.

As if summoned by his name, a cell phone rang nearby and Steve pulled a flip phone out of his pocket, grimacing and holding it to his ear. "Tony…"

Peter couldn't make out the words from the other line, but they sounded loud and angry. "Kid? You want to move over to the sofa?" Sam pressed, replacing Steve's hand with his and squeezing Peter's good shoulder. "Come on, I know the floor's not that comfortable."

"Hurts," Peter choked out, glad his mask hid his face from view, and that the three of them couldn't see him crying. No, he realized, glancing pas Sam. There were four of them...Wanda was standing beside Natasha Romanoff who approached, moving to his other side.

"Let's get him up," she urged, and he was glad to see that she'd holstered the gun.

"You ready, kid?"

Peter wanted to shake his head, but he just held his breath instead, letting the two of them practically lift him to his feet, and Natasha guided him over to the sofa while Sam opened the refrigerator and he tried to stop the tears that ran down his cheeks to no avail. At least they couldn't see through them through his mask.

"I'm sorry. We're on the run...we were afraid that Ross had sent someone."

Peter just nodded, not up for this conversation. He just wanted Mr. Stark. Just wanted the pain medicine that would stop his arm from throbbing and ease him into sleep.

"Here," Sam offered, holding out a glass of water. Peter shook his head, not willing to remove his mask, even just enough to take a drink. What if they took it off? What if they found out who he was and...and he felt bad. Really bad. Dizzy.

"Sam...there's blood on the floor." Wanda's quiet statement made everyone freeze, the room turning silent, and everything clicked.

"Oh," Peter whispered. So he hadn't managed to dodge the knives after all. He couldn't feel a stab wound...all he could feel was the agony of his arm. But suddenly Sam was a blur of motion.

"Friday, lights! Turn them up!" The lights came up so quickly that Peter had to shut his eyes and then Steve was holding his shoulders and Sam was pressing something to his side which felt vaguely sore and wet. "Tell Tony he's been stabbed! Kid?" Peter's head was too heavy to hold up anymore, and he let it drop, his forehead resting on Steve's stomach. "Steve! Keep him awake! Nat, I need towels. Friday, how do I get this suit off of him?"

"You are not authorized to remove his suit," Friday informed him calmly, her voice the only steady thing Peter could hear. "Mr. Stark is now entering the tower and I have informed the medbay staff that Spider-Man is down. Dr. Cho is on her way."

"Son, I need you to stay awake." Steve shifted, holding Peter by the shoulders and kneeling in front of him. "Hey? Queens!"

"They broke my arm," Peter slurred, tongue too heavy in his mouth. Steve nodded.

"I know. Tony's on his way. So is a doctor. They're going to help."

Sam was pressing hard on his side and Peter was shaking but he couldn't feel it. Could't feel the blood or the pressure all he could feel was his broken arm and the nausea that seemed to be competing with the dizziness and the dizziness was winning and his eyes closed before he could stop them. And then a door was thrown open and more people were talking and yelling and footsteps were pounding on Mr. Stark's floors.

Peter was on a stretcher before he could blink, and Dr. Cho was shouting. "I need an IV now. He needs pain medicine. We're going to need blood. No. You stay here."

"I can help…" Sam started, but she cut him off, her voice surprisingly cold.

"You are not authorized to know Spider-Man's identity."

There may have been more, but suddenly Peter felt a rush of heat in his arm that spread from his fingertips to his toes and the agonizing pain faded back to a dull throbbing until he could barely feel it. "Peter, can you hear me?" Dr. Cho murmured, her hand brushing over his face.

"My...my arm and…"

"I know. Your arm is broken in two places and we're going to reset it. You're also going to need some stitches. We're going to cut the suit off of you, okay?"

"But...but Mr. Stark…" he trailed off, losing his train of thought. Mr. Stark? What about him.

Dr. Cho seemed to understand though. "Tony knows. He told us to cut the suit off because that's going to be the least painful for you. He told me to assure you that after you are no longer grounded, he's going to make you a suit that you will be unable to tamper with."

His lips quirked into a smile at her amused tone, even though he wasn't all that sure what she's said. "Okay…"

"Alright. Just hold tight, Peter. We're going to give you another dose of the pain medicine. This should knock you out, okay?"

Peter closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was in a hospital bed. Not a stretcher. A bed. And Dr. Cho was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he started to sit up, but his side gave a sharp reminder that he'd been stabbed, so he quickly gave up on that idea.

"Pete?"

He turned, blinking in surprise when he saw Mr. Stark sitting at his side. The man looked exhausted, with dark purple bags under his eyes, but as soon as Peter met his eyes, he smiled, seeming to slump with relief. "Mr. Stark?"

"Hey, buddy." Mr. Stark scooted closer, reaching out and brushing his hair back out of his face and leaving the hand on his head. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Peter thought for a moment, glancing down at his arm which was wrapped in a cast and held to his chest by a string. "Uh...I don't think so. As long as I stay still."

"Good. Then I don't feel so bad informing you that you're grounded." His voice was softer than his words, and Peter nodded.

"Does it count for anything that I came straight to the tower to get help?"

"Considering you disabled the feature in your suit that would have alerted me the moment you were seriously hurt, no." The man rubbed his thumb back and forth over Peter's temple. "May is asleep in the room next door. She's been sitting up with you all night. And those are from Natasha, Sam, and Steve, although I warned them that buying you presents wasn't going to make me forget what they did." His voice went dark then, and Peter glanced at the table in the corner where a balloon bouquet, a plate of cookies, and a spider-themed teddybear sat.

"Where did they get a Spider-Man teddybear?" Peter asked with a smile. Mr. Stark snorted.

"They went to Build A Bear, and when they couldn't find a spider suit, Natasha made one."

"The Black Widow made me a custom teddybear spider-suit?"

"She did. I think she felt bad about pointing a gun at a minor," he muttered wryly.

"You told them?"

"She guessed at your age, and I confirmed that you were indeed, under twenty-one. But I didn't tell them who you were and I didn't tell them that you were only twelve."

""M fifteen," Peter grumbled, and the man chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Almost sixteen. And yet, you still insist on disabling my tech." Peter wasn't fooled. Mr. Stark was upset with him. But he would wait until he was out of a hospital bed to give the real lecture. "Pete...I'm sorry."

That took Peter by surprise and he frowned, cocking his head. "For what?"

"I saw the footage where he grabbed your arm."

"Oh...well, that's not your fault."

"They were staying in my tower. I was in a meeting…"

"At midnight?"

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. "Ross tends to monologue. It's why I always put him on hold."

"I thought that was because you liked to watch the line blink."

The man went on with a smile. "I didn't think about what would happen if you came over."

"I _was_ supposed to be at home."

"Oh believe me, I haven't forgotten about that." Peter nodded, dropping his eyes and pressing his lips together, ears heating up. "Still. I should have left instructions with Friday or warned them that you sometimes stumble into my living room covered in blood and that they should avoid pointing guns at you or grabbing your broken arm."

Peter shrugged. "They apologized. And I like the bear."

"I figured you would." Mr. Stark squeezed his shoulder with a soft smile. "I'm going to grab you some breakfast. Waffles okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Stark!"

The man hesitated before standing, hands clasped. "Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"They're going to be pardoned. All of them."

"Okay…" Peter nodded, then looked hesitantly up at the older man. "Are you okay with that?"

The man smiled, eyes soft. "I'm fine, Pete. Well...relatively fine. I'll work through it. My point is...they're going to be living here. Well, some of them are. Some of the time."

"Oh." It clicked and he nodded. "You think they're going to figure out who I am."

"Well, I was thinking we head them off and just tell them."

"Tell them...who I am?"

"It's up to you, of course. I'm not going to tell them anything without your permission. And if you want to keep it a secret, I'll back your play. But...it's something to think about. If we're going to be a team again."

Peter swallowed hard, then nodded. "Okay. If you think I should…" He shrugged. He trusted Mr. Stark. Implicitly. If the man thought it was safe, he'd do it.

The man stood, glancing over at the IV Peter was still hooked up to, then smiled down at Peter. "Let me grab those waffles and we can talk about it, huh?"

"Sounds good."

"Oh, and Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I did mention that you were grounded, right?"

"Yeah," Peter sighed, slumping against the pillows.

"Three weeks."

"Three weeks!"

"May wanted to make it six. I talked it down. You're welcome. Stay in bed. Friday's watching." And then the man was off to grab Peter's breakfast.


End file.
